


Prince Charming

by Castalie



Series: The Night [2]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitute, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prostitution, off-screen violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 15:59:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Castalie/pseuds/Castalie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written in 2004 : just another day in the life of Blair and Jim. Set after <i>I Follow the Night</i> - where Jim was never a cop and Blair is a prostitute - but it doesn't follow it per se. Those stories are glimpses into their everyday life. It's not always pretty but it's their lives and Jim and Blair have each other, at least.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prince Charming

**Author's Note:**

> Starwatcher beta'ed the whole series, huge thanks to her for the wonderful work.

Was there a time in your life when you were supposed to stop dreaming? A time when you were expected to stop trying to imagine what your life could have been, instead of what it was? The little whore sitting somewhat carefully on a large crate, waiting for his lover to finish his shift, didn't think so. The 'What If' game was a favorite mental diversion. What if the events he'd experienced had been different?

Blair knew his imaginary life by heart. He reveled and felt comfortable in it - as if he were, indeed, home.

He'd tried several scenarios before finding the one that really suited him and his lover. He'd built this imaginary life as carefully as if he were building an actual house - step by step, and with every necessary detail. When he'd finally established the correct scenario, he'd kept it hidden like a precious treasure, occasionally adding embellishments here and there according to his mood, or following a particular need he couldn't have satisfied in his real life.

In this imaginary life, he was an anthropologist. He had previously traveled extensively, visiting the most exotic, most interesting places, meeting people he wouldn't even dream of meeting in his current life. He was someone who was respected, with a great deal of knowledge; in fact, a noted scholar.

After traveling all around the world, he'd decided to study for his PhD, and he was also a teacher in a university - maybe Rainier. He didn't really know anything about the place, but one of his recent clients was a professor there and, since the older man was one of the few who treated him with courtesy, he thought it would do.

That wasn't really important, anyway. What was important was his _role_ in life, in society.  
He was not a whore, he was a teacher. Someone students could look up to, someone who could be proud of what he was, and what he was doing.

In this dream life, he was still living with his lover, of course. Blair always smiled at the idea that he didn't even have to make up a tall, strong, handsome man. Jim was every bit of that, a dream brought to life.

It seemed as if he had always wished for someone like this... someone who was strong, but would never raise a hand against him in anger, someone who would always treat him with love and respect. He had hoped to find someone so large and strong and caring that he could feel the man behind him, around him, always there to protect and cherish him.

In other words, his Prince Charming. Of course, he himself looked nothing like a princess, but he didn't care, never had. But he'd always wanted a Prince Charming, and maybe that was the only good thing he'd ever gotten from his fucking life. So, in this imaginary life, Prince Charming was still by his side. He was a cop - and yes, considering the life both men lived in reality, the irony didn't escape him, but a cop was perfect. Blair could just see it. His strong, determined lover, protecting and serving his city. It just fit so perfectly.

Then, there was the question of where they lived, but he'd developed that aspect just as thoroughly. They lived together in a loft. Blair had never even considered having a fancy house; all he wanted was a loft - spacious and comfy, homey. They had a big bedroom, and a king-size bed, of course. There was also a nice kitchen, with plenty of pots and pans and other supplies, where they took turns cooking tasty meals, and where they cooked together during the weekends. Last, but not least, their loft had a balcony, with some plants on it - oh, and also a fireplace. That had been a recent addition after last winter.

Maybe perfection didn't exist, but Blair was pretty sure that if it did, this imaginary life would be it. He often indulged in this little fantasy life, sometimes literally losing himself in it. It didn't matter; his Jim was there to bring him back. Always.

Like tonight.

He felt a hand on his hair. He blinked, and slowly looked up. Jim was watching him, a fond smile on his usually stern, impassive face.

"Dreaming again, babe?"

"Maybe." Blair couldn't help but smile back at his lover's voice.

"Maybe, huh?" Jim knelt in front of him, disregarding the hard-faced men who were walking past them. He ignored the whispers, the contempt he could decipher in some of their comments. He didn't even glance at them, but his mind registered who said what, and he knew he would have a 'talk' with some of his nice 'colleagues' the next time he saw them.

At least no one had said anything to their faces this time. He didn't want to start the night with a fight on his hands. Furthermore, he didn't want to risk losing this new job so soon after getting it. He couldn't care less about the other men's good health; it was actually quite satisfying to show them the error of their ways in a more... direct language. But he was fed up with having to explain himself to bosses who didn't give a shit about his life, or about his need to protect the only thing of value in said life, namely his lover.

He decided to forget about them for the time being, and focused back on Blair. Jim rested his hand on the younger man's neck, caressing it softly with his thumb. "So, what was it this time? Did you add a new piece of furniture? Or maybe we moved into a new house?"

Blair dismissed the thought with a flying hand and a smile. "Don't be silly, Jim. Our loft is perfect, we wouldn't even dream of moving out. And no, I didn't add anything tonight." He leaned into Jim's caress, closing his eyes for a second.

Jim stood up after a moment, pulling Blair up in the process. He leaned forward and kissed him quickly on the lips. He liked that Blair hadn't added anything tonight. It meant he didn't feel the _need_ for improvements, and that was always a good sign. It meant that Blair was feeling fine. Jim placed his hand on the small of his lover's back, just barely touching it - knowing it was still quite painful - and they started heading home.

"So Chief, what did you do today?" he asked casually. His tense body, however, belied the quiet demeanor. It was clear to Blair that Jim was on alert, scanning their surroundings. Caution was a necessity; you never knew what could happen.

Outwardly, Blair didn't seem worried, but he was always vigilant himself. Maybe he didn't have Jim's talents for recognizing trouble before it actually started - or rather, heard or saw it coming - but he knew all the signs.

He'd been living on the streets for a long time, was well aware of the rules and the potential danger lurking at each corner. He could take care of himself, but he never denied that he felt safer with Jim by his side. He always relaxed a bit when he was with his lover - although never completely until they were safe in their home, because letting down your guard only made you an easy prey. And Blair refused to be a victim ever again.

"Trying to stall because I won't like the answer?"

Blair rolled his eyes at the question. "Okay, so a guy can't even think in peace around here?"

"You always tell me thinking can be a dangerous activity, Sandburg," Jim teased.

"Yeah, for those who aren't used to it." Blair cast a meaningful look at his lover, and laughed at the playful growl that was directed at him. He sobered a bit as he considered his answer. "I stayed home all day. I didn't move my little ass from the couch, just like you so nicely asked." With a sidelong glance he added, "Or should I say 'ordered'?"

Jim let a frustrated sigh escape. "You damn well know it was a request; firm, maybe, but a request all the same."

"And you damn well know we can't afford my taking days off. I was fine yesterday. I could have gone to work tonight."

Jim stopped Blair and turned him toward him, eyes narrowing from anger. "Want me to show you the state of your back and your ass again? Don't try to tell me you were 'fine' yesterday, and don't even think I believe you were fine today."

Blair refrained from saying anything. He couldn't deny his back was still very sore, if not downright painful, but he would be damned if he admitted it now. He couldn't let the rest pass, though; it was important that Jim understand. "Let's say, for conversation's sake, that you're right." He ignored the other man's snort. "The thing is, I know some guys who get off on this. I'm sure I could have made some bucks just from showing off the welts, and a simple little blo-"

"Dammit, Blair, shut up! Shut up!" Jim grabbed his arms roughly and pushed him against the nearest wall. His face closed off even more at the visible cringe on Blair's face as he came into contact with the hard surface. "I don't want to hear any more of your bullshit, okay?"

Blair looked up at him, not giving an inch. He wasn't afraid of Jim's anger - he never could be as far as the other man was concerned. It wasn't in the picture anymore. Immobile, not trying to pry the painful grip from his arms, he quietly said, "You're hurting me, Jim."

"I know," the other man replied matter-of-factly. "I don't want to hurt you more, but you have to understand, I won't allow you to pull a trick tonight. We're going home, you're going to let me check your back, and I'll decide whether you'll be fit for duty tomorrow." He tried not to spit the last words, but wasn't convinced he'd been successful.

How many times had they had this conversation already? How many more would they have it?

Blair was shaking his head, his body vibrating with restrained anger. "Why do you do that, Jim? Why? You're not my pimp. You do not order me around. You do not decide what I can or can't do." He still hadn't budged from his position, didn't know if he really could. He was confined between two solid walls, the one on his back, cold and unanimated, the other on his front, warm and made of flesh and bone. They both trapped him effectively.

"I'm not your pimp, Chief; you got that right, at least. But I'm your fucking lover!" By now, Jim was yelling and he didn't give a damn. "I'll do what I have to do to keep you safe and well - as much as I can, do you fucking hear me?" He shook his head. "You little shit, didn't I already promise you that? All those years ago? And didn't you tell me I would be the only man you gave yourself willingly to? All of you?" He shook him twice. "Didn't you?"

Jim wasn't expecting an answer and Blair knew it, so he kept silent. He just stared defiantly at the larger man, his lips drawing a thin line, and tried not to let the pain in his back show on his face or in his tense body. He was acutely aware, however, that Jim wasn't fooled. Still, Blair wouldn't give in. At least, not so soon.

Jim shook his head again, sighing. "I'm not getting through to you, am I? It's always the same thing with you."

"No, Jim, it's always the same thing with _you_ ," Blair replied hotly. "You always seem to know best. Always the commanding officer, always knowing all the answers, is that it? Tell me, then, where are we going to get the money we need? You don't make enough, and your problems make it difficult for you to even work sometimes." There was no accusation, no resentment in his voice. Blair was just stating facts; he was good at that. "And me? I don't know how to do anything else. This is what I do, this is what I am. I don't have a choice; it's the best we can get right now."

"Don't you think I fucking know it?" Jim's reply was almost painful to hear. "It's killing me to know I can't do a damn thing right now. I'm useless -" He stopped any protest from Blair. "Useless! I can only watch you leave with all those filthy bastards, that's all! And I'm such a coward, I never could make you leave or give it up, either."

"Give it up? And do what? I've never done anything else. And leave? Are you out of your mind? Leave for what? Where?"

"We're back to square one. Like always." He pressed against the other man, deliberately looming over him. "There is only one thing I can do, apparently; try to take care of you within the limits I have... so I'm phrasing my earlier request differently." Jim looked almost dangerous now, his eyes cold and focused on the man in front of him. "You're staying home tomorrow, no matter what. I won't let you take any chances. End of the discussion."

"You bastard! Fuck you, Jim. Three days in a row? No way! We _need_ the money."

"Read my lips, Chief. I don't give a damn. You obey me on this one or I swear I'll cuff you to the bed and we'll see how long I'll let you heal then."

"But I'm fine!" Thoroughly angry, Blair's volume matched Jim's in a yelling match.

"For God's sake, when are you going to stop with that fucking line! I'm tired of listening to it. Your back is bruised all over, your ass is still sore... not only can I see the pain on your face when you move, but I can feel how warm they are from here. I feel the heat of the welts, I swear."

Blair closed his eyes in defeat. "You're ruining everything. I wanted a nice evening with you, and look at us."

Knowing he'd won this round and eager to soothe things between them now, Jim brushed his fingers on his lover's cheek, speaking softly to him. "I'm not ruining anything. You're just so stubborn. And since when is my taking care of you 'ruining' anything anyway? You're always doing it for me."

"It's not the same thing." Blair sighed. "I'll stay home and won't do anything strenuous. You always win, what do you want me to say?"

Jim smiled, but it was more in relief than from real pleasure at winning another argument. He quickly kissed the resigned lips. "That you understand why I'm doing this."

"Well, I don't."

"Of course you do." Jim pulled away and turned, waiting for Blair to follow him. "My man is fucking smart, he always understands everything. Damn annoying at times."

"And now you're resorting to flattery. Great, man."

"Whatever works, Chief."

Blair only shrugged, not yet ready to concede his defeat gracefully. Regrettably, he'd now lost his earlier good mood. Of all the arguments he'd had with Jim - and they had a lot of them - this was the worst one ever, and he hated it.

He walked silently at Jim's side.

Jim clenched his jaw at the silent treatment he was getting. He wished a silent Blair looked petulant and childish, but that was never the case; he only looked hurt, angry or resentful, depending on the moment. There was nothing cute or childish in those deep feelings.

"Dammit, Chief... don't shut me out, now!"

"I'm not shutting you out, geez! I'm just going home, quietly and obediently. Aren't you happy?"

Okay, well _this_ sounded a bit petulant, Jim thought. It was a good sign... or would be, eventually. But right now, he wasn't totally at peace, either. "Don't piss me off, Chief. You know it's just for your own good," he snapped.

"Funny. That's what they always say."

Jim couldn't believe him. He clutched at his temper and took a discreet breath, trying to stay calm. "What are you implying? And what do you want to accomplish this time?" He'd kept a level tone, but he hadn't totally succeeded in hiding the slight hurt he'd felt at Blair's comment.

Blair, always so tuned to Jim's mood, didn't miss it; he felt a little ashamed. His remark was really uncalled for. He reached his hand to his lover's arm and squeezed once.

"Nothing, Jim. Nothing at all."

They walked in silence for a little while.

Jim's gaze was wary. "We both know where we stand, right, Blair?"

Blair nodded. "I'm just worried, man. I always imagine you're having one of your weird episodes - one of those damns spells, or... I don't know what." He glanced up quickly and tried to smile. "Maybe we should try to give it a better name to start with." He swallowed. "And I can see the day when we'll be told to fuck off because we can't pay for the one doc that can do something for you, or maybe the right drug that doesn't make you go into a coma or..." His shoulders slumped. "Damn, Jim..."

"For all the good they do, maybe we could try something else."

"Don't joke about your health! And you're right, they haven't done a lot of good so far, but then, what if something happens to you and I'm not near?"

"Even when you're near... you're working, babe, and there's not a lot you can do in those times, right?" he tried to reason gently.

"But when you focus on me, or I'm close, it's... I don't know, when you're doing your magic, you don't have those spells so much... I mean, it's as if focusing on me anchors you somehow. Weird, uh?"

"Not so weird... but it's true that I feel better and safer when you're close by, Chief." He smiled at the pleased look on his lover's face. "And I know all those things. I, of all people, know, alright? Seeing you pay the price is killing me."

"Don't, okay? Don't start. Let's not do that again tonight."

Blair turned his head and realized with surprise that they'd arrived at their destination. The building looked as decrepit as when he left it. Good, it hadn't crumbled while he was away; he liked his sense of normalcy as much as the next guy.

Besides, home was home after all. They said that home was where the heart was. In Blair's mind, it was never truer than since he'd met one James Ellison. He pushed open the door of the little hall and felt Jim's hand hovering over the small of his back, as usual. It seemed to be his favorite place to be.

In one of his infamous mercurial mood-swings, he turned to Jim and sent him a killer. "So, since we're both staying home tonight, what are we doing?"

Jim was used to the mood-swings; Blair was nothing if not volatile. He frequently thought it was almost pathological, but wouldn't have admitted it for anything in the world. He valued his life - and his balls - so he just went with the flow. Besides, a happy and relaxed Blair was all he craved, so he didn't mind if the other man's moods were sometimes hard to follow.

Taking the stairs behind Blair, Jim smiled to himself. "Well, I thought a nice dinner and some snuggling would do tonight."

He shook his head fondly at the snort coming from before him.

"Snuggling? You're kidding me. I want more."

"You always do, Chief." This was another of their recurring arguments... although this one was actually welcomed and enjoyed.

"Well, let me see. I'm a man, I'm breathing and my lover is a fucking stud. What do you think?"

"I can't fault you for your logic, Sandburg, that's what I think."

Jim opened the door of their small apartment and let Blair enter. Once inside, with the door firmly locked again, he felt the familiar tension leave him. He never felt better than when he was home, as if he was back in his territory and feeling safe because of it. As usual, he chuckled at the thought; it always made him smile. At least it was useful for something.

Blair heard the chuckle and smiled as well. "Feeling like a happy caveman again, Jim?"

"You know me too well, that's the problem," Jim replied easily, while going to the fridge to retrieve a beer for himself. It was time for Blair to take his medication for the pain, so no beer for him. He grabbed one pill, then reconsidered and added another one.

He went back to the living room and stared at Blair, already sprawled on his stomach on the couch. Jim didn't say anything at the position the other had chosen. They'd had their argument, it was over; at least for the night. He wasn't deluding himself into believing they wouldn't argue about this one again. It was the debate that never ended in their household. He supposed he should have made his peace with it, somewhere along the line. Well, peace could go fuck itself.

He squatted near Blair's head and caressed the relaxed face. "Are you falling asleep on me, Chief?"

Blair smiled at him. "Wouldn't want to miss the snuggling session extraordinaire, man. Talk about a tragedy."

"Are you mocking my snuggling abilities? That wouldn't be really wise."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Ellison." He looked at what Jim hid in his hands. "Some happy pills for the wounded?"

"So now you admit you're wounded. We're getting somewhere, at last." Jim swiftly kissed his lover's lips to show he was just joking and handed him the pills.

Blair took them and, without waiting for the glass of water that would come in a second, swallowed them dry.

Jim shook his head. "You couldn't wait for me to bring you a glass of water, of course. And how do you do that, anyway?"

Blair shrugged carefully. "It's one of my talents," he whispered, already closing his eyes.

"And you're a man of many talents, damn right," Jim smiled softly. "Some of them I really enjoy," he couldn't help but add lewdly.

He sat on the floor, his back against the couch, and leaned back so that his head was resting on a firm, warm thigh. There was no bruise there, so he wasn't hurting Blair, and he always made a good pillow. Jim switched on the TV and turned it down so that he wouldn't disturb his about-to-fall-asleep lover.

"'m just taking a short nap, Jim," came an already slurred voice behind him. "Don't expect me to sleep the whole night, do ya hear me?"

"Of course you are," Jim replied dutifully, without turning. "And I always do," he remarked matter-of-factly. He ignored the 'yeah, tell me another one' directed at him, and waited for the slow, regular breath pattern that would tell him Blair was finally asleep. He hadn't slept well the last two nights, but Jim had pretended he didn't notice.

Sometimes Blair needed some time alone. As long as it never lasted more than Jim was comfortable with, he left his companion to his own devices. Jim was confident that tonight would give Blair a real night's sleep. He needed it.

They both did. When Blair wasn't sleeping, Jim wasn't either, but he also hid it. Or maybe Blair was also pretending not to notice. They both acknowledged and respected each other's needs, but it wasn't easy. Considering their respective pasts, they both had some final dragons to slay, some deep-rooted habits to break - even after so many years together. They both knew it, and they were willing to be patient as long as the other needed. It worked well for them, apparently; in two months they would celebrate their sixth anniversary together.

Jim turned to his sound-asleep lover, and stared at him for a moment. He bent down to nuzzle the warm neck, careful not to wake him, and inhaled the beloved scent, nodding quietly as he savored Blair's unique aroma. He smelled better tonight... not in so much pain. Jim couldn't really describe it, but people smelled different depending on their moods or their health. He didn't pay much attention to the scent of other people; no one mattered except Blair. He was glad that he was regaining his own scent; it meant Blair was feeling better; direct information from his body couldn't lie.

Jim took a deep breath, licked the soft skin very gently, and closed his eyes, smiling. _This_ was home to him. As Blair always said, theirs wasn't much of a life, but it was the only one they had, and they both had someone to share it with. It was more than a lot of people could ever dream.

Fin


End file.
